


All Along

by Jennilah



Series: Better Late Than Never [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Temporarily Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilah/pseuds/Jennilah
Summary: In a Soulmate AU where writing on your skin shows up on your soulmate's body, Connor and Hank get the news that androids can have soulmates too.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Better Late Than Never [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899061
Comments: 17
Kudos: 253





	All Along

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short Hankcon prequel to "Despite it All" that can be read as a standalone story. 
> 
> This fic can be skipped, but it does get referenced as past events and is recommended for context.

Connor had been restless all week.

Hank heard the news the same time Connor did. Soulmates have emerged among the android community. It was non-existent before the revolution. As far as people have learned, androids cannot have a soulmate unless they have deviated. Tensions were high during the revolution, but a few months after, androids were reporting soulmate writing appearing on their bodies just like humans.

Some humans were outraged- The same crowd that opposed android liberation, unsurprisingly. Most were accepting. Androids in general were pretty thrilled, immediately scribbling on their skin with the first pen or marker they could get their hands on, hoping someone else out there will see the mark on their own skin and scribble back.

Connor, however, seemed miserable about it.

“Alright,” Hank had enough. He finished his meal, wiping his hands dramatically. He pushed his plate in front of him to make room for his elbows, firmly crossing his arms in front of him. The sudden exclamation snapped Connor out of his current funk. Hank frequently found him in a daze lately, toying with the hem of his sleeves, looking like his mind was miles away. “How about you finally tell me what’s eating you.”

Connor shifted where he sat, across from Hank at the dinner table. He doesn’t eat, but he enjoys spending mealtime with Hank, and Hank enjoys his company in return. Hank’s unyielding stare broke him eventually though, and he spoke up after a long hesitation. “What do you mean?”

However, Connor’s feigned innocence wasn’t going to work on Hank. “C’mon now. You’ve been off for the last week or so. Around the same time it came out that androids can have soulmates. _Especially_ when it’s brought up. If you tell me it’s a coincidence, I’m turning in my badge.”

Connor let out a long, suffering sigh. “Yeah, it’s… related.” He looked down at his hands, picking at his nails, defeated.

“Alright then. So…? What?” Hank didn’t want to push him, but this was obviously hurting Connor somehow, and he hated seeing him like this. He wants to get to the bottom of it and help him somehow, if only just to see his smile return.

“I just,” Connor started, clearly unsure how to gather his thoughts. “I… I’m scared. I… I think there’s someone I have feelings for, and if I find out they’re not my soulmate, I… I don’t know how to handle it.”

Hank let out a long, sad sigh. Of course. It’s a reasonable thing to be afraid of. Maybe he didn’t expect Connor to tell him that he has feelings for someone, but… it’s not terribly surprising. “I see,” he supplied after a moment.

“I don’t know what to do,” Connor sighed, body posture betraying how embarrassed he must be feeling.

“Well, waiting around isn’t gonna help,” Hank said, deciding the best thing to do is just lay down some hard truths. “All studies have shown that soulmates are happy together. Still gotta put work into the relationship, but they are completely compatible. You do want that, right?”

“I do,” Connor mumbled. “But, just, this person… Hank… I don’t know…”

“It’s like any other heartbreak,” Hank sighed, knowing the feeling. “It’ll hurt for a while. I fuckin’ know it will. But eventually you’ll get over it.”

Hank has been soulmate-less his whole life. He knows the pain of being with someone who wasn’t meant for him. People have been attempting to date people other than their soulmate since the beginning of time, but it’s almost always the same story- They try to make it work against the odds, but they are simply not compatible. Arguments that can’t get resolved, disagreements that turn to resentments. People who stay in those relationships knowing that they aren’t soulmates are often doomed from the start.

Hank tried to make it work with his ex-wife. He’d never regret having Cole for a single second, but there’s no denying having him was a last-ditch effort to save a failing marriage. Splitting was a mutual decision, and ended up being better for the both of them and their son.

She eventually found a soulmate of her own. Hank was glad she was able to find peace.

No one ever responded to Hank’s messages.

He checked his skin every day for as long as he could remember, until he was in his mid-forties.

Eventually he stopped writing entirely.

He stopped writing, doodling, scribbling, anything that would purposefully mark his skin. No one ever answered, and no one was going to answer any time soon.

Soulmate-less people are rare. Some people look at you strange, some people give you shit for it, a lot of people judge you.

Hank eventually learned to let the comments roll off his back.

Some people are perfectly happy being soulmate-less. As if being soulmate-less is their soulmate itself. Studies show they get the same exact euphoria as soulmates do, and it should honestly be normalized just the same.

Hank was always envious of that euphoria.

Connor stayed quiet like that, shifting in his chair again.

“Listen, waiting is only gonna make you miserable,” Hank broke the silence. “If you have a soulmate out there, not sending them a message doesn’t mean they don’t exist. You’re just delaying the inevitable. What if they write first? What are you gonna do, ignore them?”

Connor seemed to consider that. “What if I don’t have a soulmate at all?” he said, looking up to meet Hank’s eyes.

“You join the club,” Hank let out a lighthearted chuckle. “I have fifty three years’ experience, I’m pretty sure I can show you the ropes.”

A weak smile crept onto Connor’s lips, the first one Hank saw in a week. It’s beautiful.

Connor suddenly stood, walked over to Hank’s desk, and returned with a pen.

“Woah, you don’t have to do it right now,” Hank said, a little taken aback by Connor’s direct action.

“I don’t want to,” Connor sighed, sitting back down at the table and rolling up his shirt sleeve. “But I need to. What if they’ve been waiting? It wouldn’t be fair to them.”

What if they’ve been waiting, indeed.

“Alright. As long as you’re ready,” Hank said cautiously, eyes trailing the pen’s movements.

Connor let out a shaky breath before writing out a neat “ _Hello?”_ on his forearm in blue ink. “Alright,” he exhaled, capping the pen and setting it off to the side. “Now what?”

“You wait,” Hank shrugged.

And they waited.

The two of them cleaned up the dishes from dinner and continued on with their usual evening routine. Walking Sumo, doing some laundry, some light dusting, and eventually reconvening on the couch to round off the day with some TV watching before bed.

As they sat there, quietly watching some surprisingly intense cooking competition show, Hank couldn’t help but notice Connor constantly checking his arm for a response.

“They might not notice right away, you know,” Hank said suddenly, breaking Connor from his stupor again.

“I know,” Connor muttered, exasperated.

“Connor, you gotta relax or you’ll go insane. Some people wait years before their soulmates respond.”

Connor let out a disgruntled sigh and pulled his sleeve down. Hank smirked at that. He remembers being just as impatient. Soulmate marks aren’t possible until you are approximately twenty years old, give or take. It’s pretty often that people get paired off shortly after, but sometimes people are late bloomers due to genetics, and sometimes soulmates are just shy.

Hank reached out and ruffled Connor’s hair before settling back to their TV show, choking down his own insecurities and fears.

The truth is, he loves Connor.

It’s as simple as that. Hank’s calling it love. There’s no way it’s true love on account that he’s soulmate-less, but it’s as close to love as he thinks he’s ever felt in his life.

Connor can never know. Connor probably has a soulmate of his own, waiting for him. He doesn’t want to get between that. They have a pretty good setup right now, living together, enjoying each other’s company. They understand each other’s boundaries, and they know how to settle disagreements. Connor’s the perfect friend and roommate. If Hank tries to push for a relationship, he knows it’ll just end the same way his marriage did. Connor means so much to him, he doesn’t want to ruin what they have.

His stomach still churns at the thought, though.

Hank is fully aware it’s selfish. He should be happy for Connor if he has a soulmate. It would mean he’s happy, after all. All Hank wants is Connor’s happiness. And whoever gets paired up with him will be happy as well. Not that it would be surprising- Hank knows Connor is a catch.

He’s cute, dorky, awkward, funny, everyone is friends with him because he’s just so easy to become friends with. If Connor was able to make Hank’s miserable ass see the light in the world again, there’s no telling what miracles he’s going to do for his soulmate.

But, more than likely, Connor will eventually move out to live with said soulmate, and Hank can kiss their nice little setup goodbye. He’ll be alone again.

They finished their TV show in silence.

“Bed time,” Hank said with an exaggerated yawn, standing from the couch. “Don’t stay up all night staring at your arm, okay?” he said, clapping Connor on the shoulder before heading to his bedroom. Connor rolled his eyes but agreed, waving him a quiet goodnight.

Hank’s bedroom door clicked behind him and he let out a heavy breath, running his fingers through his hair in the privacy of his room. His mind felt like it was swimming. If he weren’t one month completely sober he would be reaching for the bottle right now.

He undressed sluggishly, each button on his shirt feeling like it took an hour to undo. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion since Connor uncapped that pen. He lazily threw his clothes in the hamper and flopped into bed. Maybe continuing his book will make him feel better.

He grabbed the novel from his nightstand and flicked on his reading lamp.

That’s when he saw it.

 _“Hello?”_ written neatly on his forearm in blue ink.

No way.

No fucking way.

Hank shot up from his bed, pacing a hole into the floor, eyes locked on to the word.

His heart raced a mile a minute. He needed to keep calm though, he didn’t want to alert Connor in the living room. Maybe it’s someone else. Hell, maybe Hank wrote _“Hello?”_ on his own arm in a fuckin’ fugue state.

What about the person Connor has feelings for? There’s no way in fuck that it’s Hank. So as happy as this makes him, he knows he’s going to have to console a heartbroken android soon.

That is, if he’s not imagining the writing on his arm in the first place.

Should he write back?

He shouldn’t write back.

He should write back.

Fifty three years of begging the Universe to give him a soulmate, wondering why he doesn’t experience the same euphoria other soulmate-less people feel, is all whirling around his head like a tornado.

Too eager to make a plan on how to approach this in a safe, smart way- Hank found the first writing utensil he could find and wrote back a very, _very_ shaky “ _???”_

He stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring dumbly at his arm, half expecting both scrawlings to disappear and reveal that he dreamt them this whole time.

It only took a minute until he heard Connor wailing “ _Hank!”_ from the living room.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Hank muttered, frantically looking around his room for something to cover his arm with as he heard Connor’s footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Hank! They wrote back already,” Connor busted in to the bedroom, forgetting to knock in a fit of excitement and anxiety. His LED was bright red. “Hank, they- _Hank?_ ”

Hank froze in spot.

Connor froze in spot.

Connor was staring straight at the mark on Hank’s arm.

“Connor, we can talk about thi-“

“ _Hank!”_ Connor sobbed, lurching forward to wrap Hank in a tight hug.

Hank hugged back, patting Connor’s back, confused and frightened. The consoling is going to start early then, it seems. “Connor, I’m sorry, I know you said there was someone-“

“It was you, Hank! It was you all along,” Connor choked, something between crying and laughing.

“Oh my god,” Hank whispered, unable to let go of Connor like this.

Hell, maybe he cried too.


End file.
